


A Gift

by BakuraVonBocks



Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Short Film)
Genre: F/M, Humanizations, Implied Padlock, My First Fanfic, TBH Duck Yellow and Red only appear for a little, and Shrignold is mentioned, and my first work in this fandom, besides that, even tho it isnt specific, or atleast isn't too specific
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakuraVonBocks/pseuds/BakuraVonBocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were times where Tony hated himself. Most times was because of something he couldn't control.<br/>This was one of those times.</p><p>(First Fanfiction on Ao3)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift

**Author's Note:**

> This has a bit of Implied Padlock, and I do call Sketchbook "Sketchbook". And has a bit of an old headcanon from 2014 DHMIS Fandom.  
> Besides that, this is my first Fanfiction on Ao3! I hope you like it.  
> (This was literally written in like an hour)

There were times where Tony hated himself. Most times was because of something he couldn't control.  
This was one of those times.

Tony wasn't the type to be affectionate. In fact, most could describe him as cold. Mean and rude, sometimes maybe a little stuck up. He wasn't the exact likable person he tried to make himself to be. Yet, he felt as if it was about time he fessed up some... feelings. He didn't necessarily like having these feelings either.  
See, Tony had claimed he didn't like the idea of love. That it was a waste of time. He often was proud of he fact that he, himself, would never fall for anyone. That he wasn't meant for anyone. While most of this was to anger Shrignold, it was what he believed. He wasn't meant to love. After all, he was just a clock.

Yet, Sketchbook... Tony couldn't help but place a finger on why she intrigued him so much. She was far more likable than he was. Sketch was awfully nice to him, even in times where he wasn't even a bit of kind towards her. He couldn't believe that she'd still act so sweet and kind to him. Sure, they'd have their arguments and fights, but in the end she was always so nicer and willing to forgive.  
After a while, Tony couldn't help but stare at her while she drew away in her drawing pad, or while she painted on an easel. He found himself blushing and stuttering when Sketch would address him. His mind would pull a blank and he wouldn't be able to speak the exact words he wanted to say. He toned down on how rude he was towards her, and even fessed up a secret or two to her, when they were closer, about his thoughts on things he'd normally prefer to keep it to himself. He wanted to swipe part of her hair out of her face, hold her close, and maybe lean in and kiss her. There were other thoughts he had too, _most thoughts_ were pure. Though, he couldn't help have a few that were... what one would call **lewd**.

That wasn't what he was so upset with himself about.

There would be times Sketch would ask why he'd always wear his gloves. Tony would grow defensive and just say "Because I can" or "What's it to you?" whenever she questioned it. This lead to the conversation usually dropped or Sketch trying to pry him in telling her why. That would usually end with Tony leaving the room to go hide away for a while, not wanting to be spoken to, as his mood would of been dropped and he wasn't always the best to approach during these times.

See, this was roughly related to the reason why he was angry with himself.

This time, Tony had slipped himself outside to hide away, finding himself an empty field to sit down and hide. He removed his top hat and laid down his cane to the side. He then proceeded to lay on the ground, staring up at the sky. He thought over the argument, only growing angry at himself for not being honest enough. It wasn't that bad. Or, he hoped that Sketch would think his problem wasn't too bad.  
Tony sat up, removing one of his gloves. He stared at his hand for a moment, before bringing it down to the grass beside him. Upon contact, he saw the grass under and around his hand slowly turn dormant and then eventually die. He lifted his hand up, and stared at the dead patch.  
He hated this "gift". It was odd, and only affected anything that touched his bare hands. Or, really, anything with life that he grasped with his beat hands. Sure, he used it to his advantage in teaching. He could always reverse it if he stopped it before whatever he chose died. But as soon as they completely rotted away, it stayed dead. If we were upset with someone and they just happened to have plants, he'd maybe rot one or two of their more favored ones when they were around. Then act as if he had no idea what had happened to them.  
Sometimes he chose to do it when he grew beyond furious at people, waiting until nobody was around, and at night, watching them grow old and rot before his eyes. And it felt good.

Until his anger passed by, and guilt took its place. Then he had to remind himself on **why** exactly he wasn't a likable person.

He feared that one day he would do that to Sketch. As much as he found himself to love her, there could be a time where he grew so angry at her he just did it. He imagined her face full of fear, crying and eventually no longer able to create any noise. Perhaps maybe even pleading for him to let go and stop until she could speak no more. And he couldn't bear the thought of that ever happening.

Tony put his glove back on and put his top hat back on his head. He stood, picking his cane back up, and looked around. Upon spotting where some rose bushes grew, he got an idea. Maybe he's confess to Sketch, then apologize and come clean about this secret. Tony headed his way over and glanced the roses over, then carefully picked some, being mindful of the thorns, and after having what he thought was enough. He made his way back to the house.

As soon as he entered, he spotted Yellow and Duck inch away from him and Red only glance over and frown at seeing Tony was back. Tony only gave them a sort of a glare, muttering on how the Red one needed a hair cut, as a return to their,  _oh so friendly,_ greeting, entering the kitchen, where Sketch normally hung around. When he saw her painting away and humming to herself, Tony put his arm behind his back, to hide the roses, and walked closer. He froze when he saw Sketch stop and turn around to face him. She didn't say anything and only stared.  
Tony felt himself grow heavily discouraged, but he drew in a breath and brought his arm in front of him, turning away. "I... I brought these for you.. I-I'm sorry." Sketch didn't respond right away, and was silent. This only discouraged Tony even more, angry at himself even, but he couldn't back away now. What felt like minutes, she finally spoke up, sounding almost horrified.

"They're... Dying?" Tony looked back at Sketch when he heard her speak, immediately dropping the roses before they could decay any further. When they lost contact with Tony, they turned the bright red, looking just as alive as they were moments before.  
Tony stared down at them, then at his hands. He was wearing his gloves, there was no way they should of been decaying. No holes or tears, there was no way it could of happened. He noticed Sketch's hand reach out for his and he pulled his hand away, shaking his head. "Don't.. Don't touch me." He backed away, then when Sketch stepped forward, he repeated himself. "Don't touch me!" His voice seemed to raise, and he quickly existed the room, leaving his cane in the kitchen.

He couldn't bring himself to explain. He just couldn't do it. Not when she had saw him like that.


End file.
